Chapter 38, Defiance.
She tried. She really did. But the fact that her mother kept droning on and on about how happy she was that her daughter had finally found a man—a man with money—made the girl's insides twist with contempt, as if her mother was inadvertently saying the only accomplishment that was worth anything was landing a man who could take care of her. Never mind any accomplishments she had ever made in life. Never mind all the hard work and the hours she had ever spent on her dreams or on school. The studying, the homework, the tests, the stress; it wasn't as impressive as a man.
But of course, if she would say anything in her own defense, she would be scolded.
No one back-talks mother.
What mother said is God's law.
And on top of everything, her mother had started rambling to Amaimon about her glory days and how good looking she had been back-in-the-day as soon as her daughter clammed up.
And so she ate in a heavy silence, ears fuming like the spout of a kettle when it was ready to boil over. Every once in a while, she glanced up from her plate to see the reaction on Amaimon's face when her mother said something that would make even the most solid man uncomfortable. Surely, she thought, he would be as unnerved as she. But when she would look at him, she only found him silent and staring; it made her feel even more awkward.
And even still, she was so unsure of why Mephisto had brought her mother to the mansion in the first place—without even talking to her about it. She was fairly positive she had mentioned the strained relationship to him in the past, and how she didn't enjoy being around her own mother because she wasn't that great of a person. Did he just not listen to me when I talked about her? Fucking asshole, she thought as she ground the food down within her jaws. What gave him the right to bring this woman here? Because he was the director of True Cross University? Because he was the Honorary Knight of the Order? Because he was the Demon King Samael?
She scoffed to herself, which must have been louder than she anticipated, due to it making her mother stop mid-sentence and give her a harshly questioning look.
The girl tossed her fork down with a clank as she stood, dusting herself off. "I'm full," she said in a tone laced with irritation. From experience, it was better to leave than stay for the upcoming quarrel that would most likely commence all because her mother loved to assume everything and never listened to reason. She would rather do anything, or be anywhere else, than in the room with her mother at that moment.
In fact, she should be in Kyoto with the rest of the exwires.
With a plain expression, Amaimon watched the girl being whisked away by her emotions as she stormed out of the room. He found that his lips parted as she passed, but no words came to him. And she had that kind of effect on people, leaving them speechless; for true art made you feel something words couldn't touch and her soul was a beautiful shade of blue drowning in her red sea. She might not have been the quick, trivial beauty that vanity craved—no, she was more than that. Her ocean was too vast to navigate, and too dark to swim in, but for those who looked just a bit longer were moved by the waves she made with each stride. And he was a desert begging for water each time he looked her way.
Her mother grunted once the girl had left the room. "She's in one of her foul moods again." Amaimon turned to the woman, eyeing her with queries. "She gets like this from time to time," she said, breathing out heavy through the chin that was trying to double, fingers searching a carton for a cigarette. "She's always been such a weak child, with her head in the clouds. When she gets like this, it's as if her whole world has come crashing down around her."
A flick of fire, a plume of smoke.
Before Belial could make it to the table with an ashtray and offer the aging woman one of the guest bedrooms, Amaimon finally stopped holding his tongue. "You're wrong," he cracked loudly, quickly taking to his feet. And it was actually sad, he thought, that someone's own mother couldn't see them for who they were.
The girl flopped onto the mattress in the master bedroom, the plush comforter puffing up around her like pink clouds on a late summer sunset, like the kind of evening that's coupled with long, content sighs. But all the happy in the room couldn't bring her out of the grey, and in that moment she felt the first touch of abhorrence for the bright colors which pinged in her eyes like blades, the obnoxious amount of pillows that encroached upon her space, and the bubbly smiles staring at her from the walls with their beady eyes. Just as Amaimon went to knock, movement through the crack caught his attention, and he watched as she thrashed, scattering pillows about the room, pushing down the pink that threatened to swallow her whole, growling with distaste until she finally laid flat, pushing a pillow onto her face as she roared. She had always come off so independent, diplomatic, and detached, as if the words or thoughts of others never bothered her, but from the moment he had first set eyes on her he knew she was deeper than that. He had seen the beauty in everything that she was, and he had sat, impatiently pondering the depths of her sea; though it wasn't until he had met her, that he had touched her, that he had begun to understand.
Perhaps that was a part of the reason why he couldn't get her off of his mind, the reason why he felt such a need to be near her—although she could play it off well, she bore enough emotions for the both of them, and the husk that was his body leeched off of it. It was addicting. And it wasn't until this moment that he realized how alike he must have been to his own brother; how he would be willing to drown in order to keep her afloat in the storm.
Sitting up, the girl let out a heavy sigh, turned on the large television and skimmed through channel options, never to be satisfied with a single one, not even her usual choices. She was too exhausted to play video games, too irritated to enjoy her favorite shows, but too restless to sit around. And there was no way she was going out of the room where her mother could pester her again, or Amaimon could stare at her some more. The sounds from the television sounded far off in the background as her gaze shifted in and out; she was lost in thought, yet nothing was coming to her in the grey storm that surrounded her, repeating the same things over and over again: her mother, Mephisto, Amaimon, the Impure King. Her eyes shifted blankly around the room, her teeth grinding together, until they landed on the balcony. The glass door was cracked ever so slightly, letting a cold breeze flow in and toy with the curtains.
She sat on it for some time, studying the night air as it danced, twirling around the fabric before falling and dissipating against her skin. And then, she had an idea.
Launching to her feet, she rummaged through the closet for her things, grabbing her bag and pulling a sweater over her head as she stumbled out, her boots half on. Her hand dove into her bag, fishing around for paper—for the right paper—and pulled it out, flashing it to her eyes to be sure. Typically, she would have yelped as she bit down upon her own hand, drawing blood, but the past few nights with her beloved demon, along with her sense of hurry at the moment, seemed to have effectively numbed her for the time being. Her canine sunk into the flesh, and she spread the blood upon the scrap of paper, simply beckoning Fenrir by name before shoving the piece of paper between her jaws, her hands quickly becoming occupied with lacing her shoes.
The typical grand entrance from the wolf demon, adorned with lights flickering and a black haze that amassed into the beast. She was becoming used to this whole demon thing, and from everything Mephisto had shown her, little would put her in an awestruck state. In fact, she was beginning to find these entrances tedious and silly. What demon thought so highly of themselves that they needed to make such a scene each time they came?
Glancing up, she was met with the looming figure of a seated Fenrir, waiting patiently, his sharp eyes on her. "You've gotten bigger," she said.
"And you reek of demon," he growled lowly. His thick black coat puffed as she snapped a hard look at him. "My apologies, I thought we were stating the obvious." His voice was low and unamused as he looked off into the night sky. "I take it the girl hasn't listened to my advice?"
"And what would that be?" she spat, putting her hands on her hips.
"To beware of the Trickster King."
"Fenrir, I have no idea what you're talking about—and I appreciate you looking out for me but that's not important right now. What is important is my friends could be killed out there and I'm tired of being a sitting duck."
His pupils dilated as he scanned over her, acknowledging her eagerness. "Do you know what is out there?" The voice was low; a quiet rumble.
She tossed her bag over her shoulder with a huff. "I don't care, I just need to make sure my friends aren't in danger."
Fenrir's jaws snapped quickly, a large blue tongue escaping his mouth for a brief moment. "Indeed, they are." It was clear to the great demon that this human knew nothing of the dangers which lurked in the dark.
Her eyes exploded in size as she bolted for the demon, hands wrapping around the thick fur as she attempted to climb. "If you're sure, then we have to go Fenrir; I have to try to help!" He peered down at her, a deep, contemplative growl rumbling within his chest before he stooped down. She hoisted herself up, breathing heavy by the time she nestled onto his neck. He may not have wanted to take her into a battlefield where demons would lie in wait, but he would have to diligently follow her orders. Regardless of the outcome.
Opening his great jaws, he let out a shrill bark which echoed throughout the mansion, blasting the glass from the doorway before he sprung through it; and like a whirlwind, the two blew through the night, the girl burying herself in his fur, clinging for life.
Outside of the bedroom door, Amaimon had danced in place anxiously, unsure whether to intervene or just to watch as he was ordered. The power of the wolf demon shook the whole mansion and echoed down to his bones, where he shook in horror, knowing his brother would be livid once he told him this news. His stomach churned at the thought of the hellfire that might break loose while he paced in front of the door, trying to deduce the best way possible to break it to his brother, glancing down at the servants as they rushed through the mansion to the cracking windows and to the guest room to settle the girls' mother. Quite a stir she had made; but he knew it was only to get worse.
Mephisto blew his nose as he sniggered joyously, watching the scene below as the army of exorcists moved to try to vanquish Astaroth's Impure King. They were making no headway, and he couldn't wait to see how everything would play out.
Slowly, Amaimon pulled up behind his elder brother, his mouth full of cotton. He tried to speak, but found he shook instead.
He cleared his throat.
Mephisto turned to look at his brother, wiping his nose once more with a tissue. "Amaimon? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to keep watch tonight."
His voice was froggy as he stuttered. "A-about that…t-there seems to be a p-problem."
The elder demon stared his brother down, not thinking too hard on what the issue could have been, but instead more upset he was disobeying orders. "Well, out with it," he pushed, thinking the girl and her mother must have gotten in some sort of a fight that he would have to console later. Nothing that couldn't wait; he would prefer Amaimon went back to make sure his human didn't get into any sort of trouble.
Amaimon looked down as he twiddled his thumbs. "It seems she's...on her way here."
There was an alarming silence that fell all around them, even dimming the sounds of struggling from below. As Amaimon looked up to assess his brother's reaction, he was met with the fires of Gehenna being stoked while his face coiled something foul.
"What...?" Mephisto snarled, his eyes igniting.
(Author: Awe snaaappp! Anyhooo~ Sorry it's taken me a while, those of you that follow my Tumblr might have seen my recent posts, but there's been a lot going on in my personal life recently, so these last couple chapters have taken a lot for me to write, and I'm sacrificing content quality a bit here just to keep it going. I will of course be editing this whole fic once it's finished since it's all basically rough drafts, so thanks for hanging in there, bear with me for a bit my dears3)